This complex image was generated by a young man with autism spectrum disorder. He used a computer program he wrote that solved for the roots of millions of polynomial equations, plotted them on a complex plane, then stacked and colorized them by density on a logarithmic scale. Is that something you can do?
Not many of us, anyway. People who are neurodivergent think differently than we neurotypicals. As a result, they benefit from such unique perspectives that they can often come up with new and creative ways to solve problems. What appears to be a weakness in the way they learn—especially during school age, where teaching methods, textbooks, and testing systems simply do not meet their needs—is actually a unique strength, given the time and freedom to develop.
The creator of this image, and of many others of widely varied design, is our son, who had an awful time in school, but who is now a Research Engineer. Learn more about his story in the book he co-wrote, found at tinyurl.com/4c6bxw4s. To see more of his copyrighted “polyplot” designs, see tinyurl.com/plyplt.
Supportive relationships bring vitality to reality. We are very grateful to our friends and family who have stood by us during some of our most challenging times. This year, we were able to publish our story of raising our youngest son on a high functioning sliver of the autism spectrum. As the first student in the school district diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, he became the blunt instrument of change it required but didn’t know it needed.
Each phase of life can be a stepping stone to progress. From the distinct advantage of countless wayfinding steps more than 20 years in the making, we’re now able to tell the tale of our passage. But at the time, we hadn’t a clue to the route, or the fuss we would create.
Words of faith determine the journey’s end before I arrive. In October this year, we celebrated our 45th anniversary. We couldn’t have imagined most of what our lives have become, but we know Who holds our future, and that faith has both carried us through and worked out all things for our good.
Intentional steps bring opportunities that alter destinies. In February, Philip obtained a position as a Research Engineer, after the persevering quest of 7 years and 840 job applications. We helped move him to Webster, NY and unload the truck during a winter squall off Lake Ontario with -10° windchill and near-whiteout conditions!
A strong sense of purpose overrides the pain of fulfilling it. The bold statements in this post come from several of the chapter openings in Stepping Stones: our pathfinding adventure with Asperger’s. In it, we share how we hadn’t planned to be pioneers in an arduous journey—but that’s where we have found love, courage, hope, faith, learning, humor, growth, failure, trial, and triumph—everything that rounds out a life well-lived.
Only by overcoming challenges to my progress do I advance toward it. Stepping Stones is a trail guide of hope for all the parents and caregivers of children who: appear to have advantages, but somehow do not; want to be happy and fit in, but largely cannot; yearn to be treated respectfully, but usually are not.
I affirm the worth of my potential and progress toward a favorable future. Despite advances in diagnoses, therapies and other accommodations, many systemic inequities against the neurodivergent remain to be dismantled. This book introduces the concepts required to continue organizational change. And to all parents and caregivers of children with Autism Spectrum Disorder, this true tale offers pragmatic guidance, self-help encouragement, and real reason for hope.
Ignorance imprisons the mind, but learning liberates the spirit. Philip wrote the last chapter of the book, recounting the life lessons he learned in grad school and in securing a full-time job. He also created the back cover artwork and others in the book. Produced by solving and plotting the results of hundreds of millions of polynomial equations, and then stacked and colorized, he’s named this type of mathematical art “polyplots.”
Sit in peace. Stand on principle. Soar with purpose. Stepping Stones is available in print or ebook through our website timandcarolherd.com, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and other booksellers.
We believe in the message our little memoir contains, and we’re trying to reach as many people as possible. We are available for speaking to groups and for book signings. If you are an active Amazon customer, you can post a review, regardless of where you have purchased the book.
We offer this story of our experience to the great range of parents, caregivers, therapists, and support networks—as well as those who are on the autism spectrum themselves—as our like-missioned, kindred spirits. And we thank you for your support.
Normally my dreams are bizarre, nonsensical mashups of illogical plotlines, coupled with acutely detailed observations. My latest, however, may give some actual insight to better understanding people with autism; or at least, some empathy.
Many autistic people are highly sensitive to all kinds of sensory input, and often cannot prioritize among them, or be able to respond or communicate in ways non-autistic people comprehend or deem appropriate. Many are also intellectually gifted, but ill-equipped to interact with an alternately-oriented world.
My dream visually depicted their outward communication as a load of transparent cylinders crammed with parcels of concepts. Each package was a discrete, labeled thought, wrapped in a different color of cellophane.
I have no image of that dream scene to share, so I will try to describe it as well as I can.
There were several of these cylinders of various sizes and diameters in my view. I understood that the concepts inside had first been compressed into separate thought packages, and then further compacted together to fill each capped and sealed cylinder. They were varying sizes and shapes, like paper-wrapped cuts of meat; and like various sizes of gravel, they filled all the spaces within the cylinder. I was able to read two of them. One larger, pork chop-shaped gray package contained the observation that the individual hairs on the back of a person’s head had gray tips, much like the silver guard hairs on a wolf’s fur. A small red round one counted the ticks of a wristwatch on someone else’s arm in the room. These bundles were stuffed inside the cylinders with all the other encrypted thoughts and impressions, without any order, category, or priority.
The cylinders, then, were the delivery mechanism of self-articulated thoughts and stimuli responses to an outside world. They included no instructions for unpacking, decoding or deciphering the contents.
I have no way of knowing if this visual depiction in any way represents the actualities of an autistic mind and response system. Like many of my dreams, it could be the result of random firings of neurons in my own brain representing sheer nonsense. But it does give me empathy for those who are neurodivergent, and their challenges to communicating with those of us who aren’t.
